Rebuild, Repair, Restore
by Tiggs-A-Doodle
Summary: The town of San Angel is not the only thing that needs rebuilding after the Battle. Something is bothering Joaquin, and Manolo can read him like a book. Tres Leches if you squint. May include slight mentions of gore later on.
1. Chapter 1

So much had happened over those few short days.  
There had been two deaths, a ressurection, and an almost-marriage. A battle had begun. Another ressurection, and the dead had been raised- the battle had been fought and won. There had been hearts broken and entire families erased, hearts mended, hope restored, and an _actual_ wedding. A trio cut from three down to just one, and then restored.

The ruins of the belltower still lay at the foot of what remained of the church, a monument of rubble to stand testiment to the carnage that had swept through the town in only one evening, scattered like the petals of a discarded bouquet. The sight was not, however, one of tradgedy as you might think. Far from being a somber reminder of what had almost been, the industrious attitude that had fallen into place in the days after the Great Battle had the wreckage buzzing with life and the hearty laughter of workmen and volunteers as stones were passed from shoulder to shoulder, carried away from what had been the gates of the city where they had been flung and carefully piled in great stacks, ready for the restoration that was to take place.

The sun had returned in all it's glorious triumph as if in celebration, and it's warmth caressed the skin of those below like the soft touch of a loved one.

So much had happened.

Manolo hadn't allowed himself to think on it too hard, throwing himself mind, body and soul into the restoration of the town. There would be time to think about it when the town was restored. Maria too had hitched up her skirts with that smirk of hers, and was busily organising the workers over by the church with an energy and enthusiasm that seemed contagious. He caught a flash of her smile as she laughed in the distance, throwing her head back while her hair fluttered in the blessed breeze that cooled the sweat on his skin. A more beautiful wife he couldn't have wished for.  
Another hunk of rubble was coaxed from it's shallow crater with a little bit of grunting, and the _torero _heaved it to the next man in the human chain, passing it onwards with a bright smile and a warning of it's weight.

His back had begun to ache more persistantly in the past hour, and although he was left in only the lightest trousers he had , the heat of the sun and the exertion that the work required had left Manolo sweating bullets and desperately thirsty.  
Pressing his hands into the small of his back in an attempt to massage away the pain there, he allowed his eyes to slip closed for a moment, taking time to breathe the air that was carried on the breeze. The smell of bread from the bakery on the other side of the square was heavy and delicious, rolling in with the sharp tang of spices and the rich scent of pork, roasted slowly over the fire that had been set up across town. Maria wouldn't be thrilled at that. Chuy would be furious. He let himself linger on the pleasant scents for a while, becoming still and calm, enjoying the brief respite.

"You still here, _mi hermano?_"

Opening his eyes with a start, Manolo found himself eye to- well, _eye_, with San Angel's self-appointed protector, the laughing quirk of his lips under a perfectly-maintained moustache making him roll his eyes at his oldest friend as he waved a hand in an exaggerated gesture in from of his face.

"Ah, _there _ you are, my friend!"  
"Ha ha, yes, you're so funny _amigo_."  
"I should hope so, i've been practicing. Here-"

With a startled yelp, Manolo caught the flask that had been thrown more out of reflex than deftness, and when he noticed what he held he barely paused to flash a grateful smile at Joaquin before almost ripping out the stopper and tipping his head back, relishing the effect the cool water had on his dry, parched throat.

"-yeah, you looked like you needed that."

Resurfacing with a gasp, he passed the flask back and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth before kneading at his back with his knuckles with a sheepish smile.

"_Muchos Gacias."_

The clap on the back that came next almost knocked the air from his lungs as the Soldier laughed and began to shepard him towards the battered cobble path that led to the square.

The bullfighter let himself be led, ready to take a break. Glancing around, he realized with only a small measure of embarrassment that they were the only ones left in the work site, the others having deserted the rubble in favour of grabbing some food and a _siesta_ as the sun became too hot to work in. As the friends made their way into the centre of town (where the Sisters would be handing out food for the volunteers), they laughed with one another, shoving at each other playfully as they walked, both shirtless and tired, but well pleased to be in each other's company.  
"After all, it isn't everyday that you both lose and regain your best friend, ey brother?"  
"I couldn't bear to leave you all alone, you wouldn't last the week."  
"Hey!"  
Joaquin chuckled, but somehow it seemed halfhearted, lacking it's usual energy.  
"Joaquin? Is something wrong?" They were rounding the corner and nearing the square now, and the scent of cooked meat and fresh bread was enticing and overwhelming, the promise of a rest and a good meal thick in the air.

The arm around his shoulders tightened, and the fingers that rested near his collarbone clenched into a loose fist, tapping gently on his skin.

Concern began to creep in as he saw an unreadable expression settle onto his friend's face, a joyful smile now suddenly tight-lipped and thin.  
Stopping dead in his tracks and forcing Joaquin to do the same, he turned to fully face his friend. The soldier stared resolutely at the cobbles and the toes of his own boots, steadfastly avoiding looking at the other.  
"Joaquin." 

"_Joaquin!"_  
With a sigh, the taller of the two lifted his head and met Manolo's bewildered stare, then his own eye darted away, unable to look at him in the face.  
"Are you...crying?"  
"What? No! Of course I'm not _crying _are you _serious-"_  
"I've known you since birth, don't lie to me."  
"I'm not crying! It's just the..uh... smoke from the fire, yeah! I only have one eye left you know, it's pretty cut up about it-"  
Arching one eyebrow, Manolo levelled his most unimpressed look at the babbling hero.  
"Okay, alright! I was crying a little tiny bit."

Before he could react, Manolo found himself pressed against a broad, solid chest, wrapped in muscular arms that shook ever so slightly.

"My God, I'm so glad to have you back. I'm so glad, you _enorme idiota_."

Trying to ignore the chest hair that was tickling his nose, Manolo gently patted his friend on the part of his shoulder he could actually reach from where he was crushed against his torso. The strong reaction surprised him and he'd lost his bearings on the situation for a moment. But feeling the shudders of aborted sobs wracking the frame of his oldest and best friend, Manolo just sighed heavily through his nose and he looped his arms around him and held him close. Joaquin gripped him like a drowning man grips flotsam, burying his face in soft, dark hair and squeezing his eye tightly shut in a last-ditch effort to stop the tears from falling.  
He wasn't sure how long they both stood there in the cool shade of the buildings, but after what felt like hours (and could really only have been a few minutes), a heeled foot tapping on the stone filtered in through the sound of slow breathing.

His eyes snapped open and the two men sprang apart immediately, faliling to keep their balance and brushing imaginary dust from themselves in a display of forced nonchalance.

Maria threw her head back and laughed at their mumbling explainations, her long tresses swinging behind her as she reached forwards and seized both of her boys by the hands, slender fingers sliding between large and calloused ones as she began to sweep them into the square, brooking no argument or hesitation as she bore them on.  
"Hurry up, Lovebirds, or all the food will be gone already."  
Tripping and laughing as they ran to keep up, Manolo reached out quickly and took hold of Joaquin's wrist.

"I'm so glad to be back with you both."

And the three friends ran like children again through the streets of San Angel, whooping and singing long into the night. 


	2. Chapter 2 Blind Panic

**I'm sorry for the awful pun (but i'm not really). I'm not sure how long this story is going to be, so i'm just going to do whatever and see what happens. It looks like it's going to be mainly focusing on Joaquin gettin himself back together and me trying to work out how to write a Poly ship properly. I hope it's not too bad so far! I know there are a couple of spelling mistakes- because i get lazy at three in the morning when i usually write these chapters whoops.**

* * *

When the burning heat of the midday blaze had cooled to a tolerable level, the tireless work started up again in the gradually lengthening shadow of the belltower. Joaquin had been reluctant to put an end to their nostalgic romp about town, racing down cobbled streets that would have been almost identical to those in his memories of childhood, had it not been for the lingering cracks and newest scars that marred the ground and walls, leaping over the bales of hay outside the stables and all three of them dragging each other to the ground to wrestle and play fight like they used to. He could still pin Manolo down with one hand, he had been pleased to discover, but then again, Manolo could still fight dirty, and the set of bruises around his wrist where teeth had clamped down were beginning to purple.

However, there was still work to be done, and daylight to do it by, so he slipped his hands quietly out of theirs and resumed his self-appointed role as heavy-lifter. This had him jogging back and forth across the courtyard and churchgrounds, rushing wherever his strength was needed most urgently, and hauling away huge chunks of brick and mortar, heavy wooden support beams that had fallen with the belltower, and at one point, sprinting from the other side of the courtyard and vaulting over a pile of rubble to catch one of the Sisters as she toppled from the scaffolding. True, she wasn't falling from a great height, but he had saved her a nasty fall, and been rewarded with a laugh and a kiss on the forehead. (_"There he is! Joaquin, the Hero of San Angel- You are a good boy."_)

After that, he'd had to quickly duck around the back of the church and sit for a while, as the pain in his empty eye socket had intensified to an almost sickening level, and his vision had become so splotchy in his one good eye that he was almost blind.  
There he sat now, digging his fingers into the cool dirt in the shade with his head between his knees, breathing with a deliberate slowness. His look of forced calm was ruined by the tension that was clear in his shoulders, and the way that he was blinking rapidly as he panicked, trying to clear the spots from his vision.

He knew it was temporary, but the irrational fear that he was going to lose the other eye too was overpowering his logic, and it was taking all he had left to sit quietly and sweat, rather than scream and yell for someone to please, _please help, i'm going blind, i can't see anything, i can't fucking SEE!_

His fingers twisted into fists in the dirt as he struggled to reign in his terror. He took a deep breath. And then another.

He closed his eye and raised his head slowly. He was okay. He would be perfectly fine in just a moment. Just wait.

After a few minutes, he let his eye open, and let his muscles relax when the world he saw was clear and as vibrant as always in the golden glow of the afternoon. His socket ached.

He wouldn't be able to to much else today. The thought sat uncomfortably in his chest, winding his stomach into a tight knot of disappointment, and shame.  
He used to be able to ride into battle, alone, into a hoard of vicious _banditos_ and come out victorious and unscathed, holding his head high like it was nothing and flashing a glowing smile. He should have been able to repair the whole damned town singlehandedly if he really tried. But now he couldn't run across a yard without needing to rest like an invalid-and his brilliant smile was down one tooth.

_"Ah, but that only makes it all the more charming!" _Maria's words from earlier in the day came back to him suddenly, paired with the memory of her small hands resting on his cheeks as he grinned down at her, poking his tongue out through the gap behind his left canine.  
Manolo had laughed and slung his arm around Joaquin's waist, the other flung wide as if presenting him to an invisible audience.  
"_Yes, Joaquin the Great- most roguish grin in all of Mexico. Women will flock from miles around- OW! Maria!"_

Joaquin couldn't help but smile as he poked at the gum with his tongue, the coppery taste lingering. Maybe he should get a gold one to replace it?

At least teeth were easily replaced.

A slightly chilled breeze brushing over his bare chest snapped him out of his thoughts as goosebumps flourished up his arms. The brassy sky was rapidly bleeding into a warm, smoky grey, and the air had cooled to a mild warmth. It was time to head back to the Square to collect his shirt, and maybe wrangle a bit of supper from the Sisters.

He unfolded his limbs and rose, stretching his aching muscles with a long sigh of relief. It felt so good to stretch- and the soreness in his body reminded him that he was useful still. He had earned a good, long sleep.

He could hear Manolo and Maria both calling his name as he stepped out from behind the church, making a beeline for the shorter figures who stood by the entrance, obviously looking for him. Manolo had his back to him and was still scanning the area for his much taller friend when Joaquin waved and caught Maria's attention. She tugged on her husband's ponytail with a wicked smirk, and they both laughed as Manolo spun round in indignation, mouth open to protest, before a wide smile interrupted his complaints at the sight of Joaquin.

"Joaquin! Good, listen, Maria and I were thinking-" he broke off suddenly in the distracted way that he often did and squinted at the other in he dusky light.  
"Wait, where have you been? We kind of lost you after a bit."  
Before he could even reply, Maria leapt in.  
"You should stay at Manolo's house with us, Joaquin." Her eyes glittered and her hand grasped Manolo's, before the other reached out to him.

Taken aback by the sudden invitation, and the imploring looks he was receiving from the two, all he did for a silent moment was stare at Maria's outstretched hand as if it had reached out and slapped him across the face, before finding his voice.

"I don't...uh- don't think-" he stammered, floundering in uncertain territory. He couldn't outright refuse, as the last thing he wanted was to offend the two people he cared about most in the world, but at the same time...he had a bed of his own in his old house, and the thought of being a burden made the knot in his stomach twist tighter.  
Manolo seemed to understand his hesitation, and as Maria let her hand drop with a sigh and a roll of her eyes he stepped forward a gripped Joaquin's right shoulder firmly, meeting his gaze with a warm look in his eyes.  
"Please stay with us Joaquin, one night at the very least? I've missed you so much while you've been away, we both have. Come on, _mi hermano, _just like old times?"

Face to face with the famous puppy-dog look, Joaquin's resistance gave like wet paper, and he shook his head in a mock show of exasperation even as arms looped around his waist, and he rested his own on the shoulders of his companions in a loose embrace.  
Manolo cheered on his right as Maria laughed on his left, squeezing the Soldier's middle as the trio began to make their way towards the glow of the cookfire in the square to collect the boy's shirts and a bowl of the broth that they could smell in the air. Manolo glanced at him as they walked, and his heart danced in his chest a little at the genuine smile that had grown on his face. It wasn't a smirk or a grin, just a tiny, real smile that seemed to somehow make the shadows under his eyes lighter, and the bruises around the eyepatch disappear, and the boy with the paper moustache and the wooden sword was back, walking beside him happily as they made their way to their next adventure. With a smile of his own, Manolo let his gaze flicker over to catch his wife's, and they shared a long look of satisfaction before something crossed the _torero'_s mind.

"So hey, Joaquin, i never asked you how you got all those medals."

Maria groaned, but leaned in to listen anyway as Joaquin launched enthusiastically into his retelling of his heroic deeds.

They talked long into the night, side by side.


	3. The Great Flour Fest

**Hello! Sorry i took so long, if you're a follower of mine you'll know that I'm pretty awful at keeping my writing up. But here's something, at least. I wanted to write something a little bit fun, so I hope you enjoy! (PS I don't have Word on my Laptop so I'm going without spellcheck; please excuse any spelling mistakes! I'm also not a Spanish speaker, so if I screwed anything up majorly, please let me know!)**

* * *

Mornings in San Angel were usually a calm and gradual affair as the pale dawn slipped over the heads of it's residents, filling the space that darkness left behind with powdered sunlight and a pale golden glow. The chill in the air that the night left behind was warmed gently, and the breeze was soft as a breath, a laughing tickle that brushed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed your cheek in welcome.

Manolo knew these mornings better than either Maria and Joaquin, as he had trained bathed in the soft light almost every morning of his life. After Maria was sent off to Spain to study, and Joaquin had galloped headlong into the sunset to become a Hero, Manolo had tried to fill the gap with Papa's training and playing guitar with the Mariachi brothers (and by 'playing guitar' he actually meant 'getting absolutely hammered' about sixty percent of the time). He had tried to please his Papa, he really had made an effort to take his training more seriously. He was meticulous with his footwork, he was precise in his motions and he wielded the cape like an extension of his own body, but still the thought of killing an animal, torturing it for the entertainment of others, sent ripples of revulsion through his very core. His family had never really understood, but at least now he knew that they were proud of him anyway.

Blinking out of his thoughts, Manolo realised that he was no longer sitting on the front step of Casa de Sanchez where he had been enjoying the atmosphere of the quiet morning. Instead, his feet had carried him to the Arena. The path from the house to the Arena was one he had travelled well, but as he stared at the small archway in front of him that he had walked under so many times, he was struck by a sudden sense of wrongness. He wasn't sure what he expected when he stood there, staring at the solitary shadow on the ground that stretched beyond the archway and mingled with the shade of the corridor that he and his father had walked side by side, so many times. Maybe the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, or the scent of his father's tobacco on the breeze.

There was nothing but gently swirling dust and an ache in his chest.

...

Joaquin grunted as he shifted on the bedroll that he had laid out in Manolo's front room, squinting against the light that pervaded the room. He'd been awake for a few hours, early rising being a habit that was deeply ingrained, but the light was aggravating his headache. He lay there for a few minutes more before giving a sigh and dragging himself upright, bracing his torso with his elbows on the floor.

The pain in his eye socket greeted him almost immediately, but it was only a throbbing ache that he could easily ignore. He looked towards the open doorway after a few moments of deep breathing, a little glad that Manolo hadn't returned from wherever he'd heard him wander off to. He'd only fuss and worry when he saw him in pain, like he and Maria had both taken to doing whenever he so much as winced, and Joaquin-whilst he appreciated that they cared so much- would rather pretend that the whole 'missing eyeball' thing wasn't that much of a big deal.

He rolled onto his side and slowly stood, stretching with his arms above his head and revelling in the feeling of his cramped muscles loosening. With a yawn that cracked his jaw, he made his way to the doorstep, standing for a short moment in the open with little care for the fact that he was dressed only in his under things, before settling himself on the cool stone to wait for Manolo.

"Good morning."

With a yelp, Joaquin flung himself upright, spinning on his heel to see Maria standing in her nightdress in the doorway to the room, laughing at him with just her eyes and a tiny smile. Her loose brown curls caught the slowly strengthening sun, turning them to pure gold as she stepped barefoot towards him.

Clutching a hand to his heart, he slumped against the doorway in a mock-faint and rolled his one eye to the heavens before grinning back at her and reaching out to ruffle her hair as she shrieked and tried to leap away.  
"What are you trying to do, kill me?" he laughed as she batted his hands away "I'm not immortal any more, I'm susceptible to heart attacks."

Matching his grin, Maria shook her ruined hair out of her face.  
"Heart attacks? You're more likely to give _me_ one with the way you screech, _amigo_."

He didn't anticipate a surprise retaliation, so he was off his guard when Maria grabbed him in a headlock and used her knuckles to muss his morning hair even more (or at least, that's what he would tell Maria later). He gave only token resistance as they both giggled like children. He had missed this, just spending time and being silly with Maria and Manolo, like before they had gone their separate ways, before rivalries and tragedies and expectations had weighed them down. The three had reconnected and filled each other in on what they had each missed of each other's lives- Maria had told exciting stories of Europe, how she had snuck out of the convent to attend parties and dances , the people she had met and the adventured they had together. She spoke a little sadly of the friends she had made, and she promised that they would all come visit, and that they three would visit Spain, '_soon' _she affirmed '_you have to see EVERYTHING, I just know you'll both love it there.'_  
Manolo had (rather sheepishly) relived some of his more entertaining drunken exploits with the Mariachi brothers, one of which involved a horse, a jar of honey and not a lot of clothes.

They had laughed until they cried, until it was late and the air was cold and the candles had burned low.

Now, Joaquin and Maria's play-fight migrated across the living room and into the Sanchez' small kitchen, where a sack of flour was leaning against the wall in the shade. Joaquin's flailing foot clipped the bag and a plume of white powder shot into the air, startling them both.

After a second, Maria's grin became wicked.

...

Manolo's expression was blank as he made his way back to the house. The morning was moving on now, the sun climbing higher and the air getting warmer. He was glad that he was only wearing his thinnest night shirt and trousers, as it seemed the day would be just as hot as the last. He quickly wiped away the wetness that gathered in his eyes and tried to turn his thoughts away from his Father, and his Grandmother. It was no use dwelling on such thoughts, he had his closure, and a chance to properly say goodbye to them.  
He knew that, but their absence still hurt.

As he rounded a corner, he suddenly became aware of shouting close by. It sounded almost like an argument up ahead, in the street. Breaking into a jog, Manolo found himself following the sound to his own house, hurrying over the cobblestoned path past the pig pens and taking the stone staircase two steps at a time.  
The shouting was louder, and he could see a few people staring curiously down the next street, _his _street, from which a strange amount of dust was billowing, visible in the rays of sunlight that streamed down.

Speeding up, he skidded around the bend, and was greeted with a face full of flour and Maria's laugh- the slightly wheezing one that meant she was probably doubled over with tears in her eyes.

Blinking, frozen in place, he surveyed the scene. The door to the house was open, as he had left it.

The street was most certainly _not_ as he had left it. Flour covered every surface. The street had a thick blanket of powder, the marigolds in the window boxes of the houses around had turned white, and powder hung thick in the air.

It looked like it had been snowing.

And in the middle of it all, darting about with the children who had run out to play, _still in their nightclothes_, were Joaquin and Maria.

Also covered in flour.

...

As Joaquin spun around to toss another handful over maria's head, he caught sight of Manolo standing stock still in the street with wide eyes, and froze.

"Oh my God."

The _torrero'_s hair was streaked half white, and there was an explosion of powder coating the left side of his face. He seemed to be struggling for words as Maria also stumbled to a halt too, as he scooped up some flour from the top of a barrel, staring at it and rubbing it between his fingers as if in utter disbelief.

The children gasped as Manolo shook himself and stood at his full height (still quite short) and turned his gaze from the flour to the perpetrators of this Gigantic Mess. He stalked over with narrowed eyes and his lips pressed together, and they slowly edged behind the knees of the two adults, peering out from behind the skirt of Maria's nightdress.

The tension hung in the air almost as thick as the flour as Manolo marched right up to his friends, looking them each in the eye before shaking his head...and bringing out the two handfuls of flour he'd concealed behind his back with a grin and a shout of triumph before flinging them into their faces, darting back down the street as they spluttered to gain more ammunition.

The Flour Fest started up again in all it's raucous glory as the children shrieked and whooped, covering themselves and their clothes in white that would refuse to wash out of hair for days, making a mess that would take _weeks_ to fully disappear, and enjoying every minute of it.

Manolo laughed so hard at the sight of his wife and his best friend covered in flour with the most ridiculous hair that he had ever seen that had to hide behind 's vegetable cart for a good few minutes before rejoining the fight.

Maria smiled a secret smile to herself as she ran back into the kitchen to fill her skirts with more flour. It was about time her boys lightened up a little. She hadn't had fun like this since the _pigs incident_.


End file.
